I don’t know how to be 36…
SO next week is my birthday. I will be 36 years old, There it is I just typed it out.
I said it, I know it, but I don’t I own it. I don’t know how a 36 year old is supposed to act.
DO you know what I mean? If you round me off I am 40. I have a one year old baby, I have a husband.
I made it here somehow BUT in my mind I am 25. Okay true, boobs are pointing a little more south than 10 years ago, I may have one or two stray hairs that pop out on areas that they aren’t supposed to like say my chin, AND I may not be into the new Zac Efron Movie (is that his name?)
Still I don’t know how to be 36.
I mean I still have dreams and aspirations, am I allowed to have such desires?
Once you cross the threshhold and enter into the “over 30 crowd” are you supposed to stop looking forward to the birthdays yet to come?
Am I allowed to feel sexy, to want to giggle or gossip.
Am I still allowed to have water gun fights?
Why do I have to worry every time I take a glass of wine that it may slow down my metabolism and that 2 pounds I just lost may now become 10 pounds.
AND that weight will sign a lease to live in the most unusual place, the jingly armpit zone.
I feel like a girl
that has been hijacked by a bitter woman
The only thing I have on my side is my Italian Skin
All that Olive Oil I have been eating since I was a baby has soaked its way into my pores and preserved me if you will.
Should I do as other women do and simply lie. Or do I celebrate that fact that I look good for my age?
